


i have wounds (only you can mend)

by sugdensquad



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Confessions, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugdensquad/pseuds/sugdensquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert struggles to cope with the guilt and grief he feels on the anniversary of his mother's death. Aaron is there for him, as always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i have wounds (only you can mend)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt on tumblr.
> 
> (Title taken from _Can't Pretend_ by Tom Odell)

He went alone.

Vic had suggested they all go as a family to pay their respects, like they had done when he first got back. But he had wanted some time with his mother alone, without Andy standing next to him as a permanent reminder of why she was in a grave in the first place, or Vic pretending to be brave but unable to hold back great, broken sobs.

The grass was thick with frost around her tombstone, crisp and glittering blades of green which barely moved with the wind. His boots left a series of deep footprints on the frozen ground, like a trail of breadcrumbs so he knew how to get back. Robert told himself to say something, even if it was just a quiet ‘hello’, but he couldn’t find his voice. The guilt was as corrosive as bleach, stripping him of all reason and courage as he just stared at her name, unblinking.

Eventually it became too cold to stay any longer, and with regret already seeping deeper into his chilled bones, he made his way reluctantly back home.

He and Aaron had bought _Jacob’s Fold_ only three months ago from Eric, who had been no match for their joint negotiating prowess and had conceded to knocking almost £15,000 off the price. It had taken them the best part of three weeks to get everything moved in and looking reasonably good. Liv had been staying with her Mum in Ireland for a few weeks during the summer holidays so they’d taken advantage of her absence and christened almost every room in the house.

Usually, just seeing the quaint, stone cottage was enough to make him smile, but now his chest felt heavy with dread as he pushed open the iron gate. A blast of warm air hit him as he entered the hallway and he shivered, the change in temperature already thawing his cold-nipped skin.

“That you?” Aaron called from the kitchen and Robert pushed down the sharp, sarcastic response on the tip of his tongue for a more neutral: “Yeah. Just me.”

He popped his head round the kitchen door, dressed in a too-big knitted jumper Pearl had given him because apparently he was looking ‘very pale’. Aaron had taken it politely but had sworn never to wear it, lip almost curling at the garish, red fairisle as if it was the worst crime against fashion since neon-tights and leg warmers. Turned out, though, it was the warmest thing in his wardrobe and as November had brought with it some of the coldest days in recent months, Aaron had been unable to go a few days without pulling it on. Robert secretly thought he looked adorable in it, but he would never have dared say it aloud.

“You never said you were going out,” Aaron remarked, leaning in the doorway, drying a glass which was still slightly soapy around the rim.

Robert shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook. “No, I just went for a walk.” He said it as evenly as possible, but there was a tightness to his voice which Aaron must have picked up on, because he raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” he replied immediately, and now there was a definite tension between them, one Robert had been hoping to avoid.

“Okay. Come and sit down. You can tell me what’s going on.” Aaron didn’t wait for a response, just put the glass down on the kitchen counter and headed through to the living room. Robert followed. He always did.

They sat at opposite ends of the room, Aaron folding himself into the corner of the two-seater while Robert perched on the arm of the sofa. The silence pressed down on them, and he stretched out his numb fingers for something to do as Aaron just stared, expectantly, for him to explain. But he couldn’t. Not about this.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to guess?” Aaron eventually asked, and Robert heaved a sigh, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“Nothing to say.” There was, of course, there was plenty. He just didn’t know where to start.

“Where did you disappear off to, then?”

“Graveyard,” Robert replied matter-of-factly, and something in Aaron’s expression changed. He hoped it wasn’t anything resembling pity. “Mum’s anniversary today.”

“Jesus, Robert, you should have said something. I could have gone with you.” His voice was taut with concern and Robert felt his resolve give a little, just enough to have his throat constrict tightly around the words fighting their way upwards.

“I didn’t stay long. Just needed to…” What had he needed to do? See her? Commemorate her? Ease his own conscience? “Pay my respects,” he finished, and the words sounded just as hollow as they felt.

Aaron pressed his lips together, hands wringing out some of the worry etched into every crease of his skin. Robert wanted to reassure him, to say he was fine or that it wasn’t a big deal, but he just couldn’t do it. Not today.

“How was it? I mean… How are you?”

_Exhausted. Shaken. Hurting. Guilty._

“It was... y’know. It was all right.” It felt wrong to reduce his visit to her grave as being ‘all right’, as if he hadn’t been completely undone the moment he stood in front of the tombstone.

“You can say, Robert. You can tell me if you’re not okay.”

Aaron’s words always seemed to have an unnerving ability of unpicking Robert’s tightly knotted resolve, till he could almost feel himself quivering, lashes batting back the sharp sting of tears. He wasn’t anywhere near okay. He hadn’t been since last night, the 16th of November looming on the horizon so that, in the darkness and with Aaron curled around him, Robert could barely breathe.

That same tightness in his chest had him pulling in oxygen now, lungs aching as he desperately tried to claw back some strength.

“I can’t.” It was as honest as he could be, given that he was struggling to keep himself together, far less speak. But Aaron heard the twinge of pain in his voice and he was in front of him in a heartbeat, hands cupping Robert’s face. And God did his touch steady him, even if it was only for a second.

“Of course you can. You can tell me anything.”

But how could he, when there weren’t any words in the English language which could possibly cover how he felt? How desperately he missed her, and how her absence still yawned wide and hollow inside him, an abyss dragging him deeper into its dark centre. Or how lost he felt without her guidance, her steadfast support, her unwavering love for him. And even if he could explain all of that, how could he possible articulate his guilt, which tore at him on this day and so many others, till he was drowning under the weight of regret?

“Can we just leave it? Please?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and now Aaron’s face was swimming in front of him, the first tears dripping warm against his frozen cheeks.

Aaron’s lips pressed against his forehead, soft and firm and loving, and Robert wrapped his arms around Aaron’s waist, drawing him closer till he could hide his damp face in the scratchy, wool jumper. He wanted to let go, to fall into the grief, but he had never been that sort of person. He had always been the pillar for others to lean on, never the one to ask for help himself.

“I’m here. It’s all right, I’m here.”

He could barely make out the words over his own sobs, and even though he was biting down hard on his tongue, they kept coming all the same. It was like a dam bursting, the water surging forwards without mercy or restraint. The barriers had been destroyed, and now this was the consequence. Him, clinging onto Aaron’s arms as every last shred of dignity and composure was lost.

His voice was in tatters, each whimper and cry feeling like ragged nails against his throat, and he knew he must be hurting Aaron, fingers digging into his shoulders just to keep from collapsing. He’d never done this before. Not even when he was alone. He’d come close once or twice - after his mum’s funeral, having watched his father shackled and under prison guard, he’d hidden in his room that night and screamed into his pillow. But there hadn’t been tears like this, choking him, suffocating him.

Aaron’s fingers were curled around the nape of his neck, thumb stroking his hairline as he murmured gentle words of comfort into his ear. He forced himself to breathe, to find some semblance of calm despite the fear embedded in his heart like shrapnel. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to dilute everything that was still clawing its way up inside him, to repress it again. He was afraid that he’d never be able to stop feeling this hopeless, that he’d forever be haunted by his mother’s ghost, her disappointment heavy on his shoulders. But more than anything, he was so utterly terrified of what Aaron now thought of him.

He pressed his face into the coarse wool of Aaron’s jumper, hands sliding down till they settled against his hips, grip loose enough now that Aaron could easily step back if he wanted to. But the two of them remained unmoving, Robert feeling small but protected as Aaron cradled him, the last of his sobs subsiding. He gulped in air, steadying his heart as much as he could, and allowed his body to slip away from the terror still gripping his mind.

“Better?” Aaron whispered against his temple, moist breath making his skin warm. He leaned closer until he felt Aaron’s lips pressed against his forehead, and wondered how it had got to this point - where one, simple touch was enough to pull him back from the edge. Robert wondered how many times, over the passed few weeks, months, even years, Aaron had saved him with just these small, loving gestures. Too many to count, he was sure.

He nodded, but more for Aaron's benefit than because it was the truth. The guilt was still crippling, driving deeper into his gut until he was almost doubled over from it. But Aaron didn’t need to know about that, and Robert didn’t want to hear all those soothing words of ‘it wasn’t your fault’ and ‘you couldn’t have done anything’. Because he could have. _Should_ have. And it had been fear and cowardice which had stopped him. He’d been a selfish bastard even as a boy.

His chest felt hollow, heart echoing in his ears and making his fingers tremble. He was suddenly cold and his arm wrapped tighter around Aaron’s waist, wanting to leach some of his warmth.

“Talk to me, Rob,” he heard him say, soft still but urgent now, pleading to his better nature. Robert didn’t have one.

“I’m fine.” He’d said it a million times. Everyone had. Wasn’t it human nature to reply with that automatic, default message which meant nothing and resonated with no one? It was just a filler, really, to block out what desperately needed saying.

“You’re not, though, are you? Not about this.”

 _Drop it_. That’s what he wanted to spit out. His tongue felt sharp with all the threats and warnings braced and ready to leave his mouth. _Leave me alone. Fuck off. Don’t. Just… don’t._

He couldn’t say them to Aaron. Anyone else would have been pushed away, shoved off and left reeling, but not Aaron. Robert would never hurt him again, not if he could avoid it.

“Just let it get on top of me, that’s all,” he managed, and he was proud of even that small admission. It wasn’t nearly honest enough, and didn’t even reach the fringes of what he actually felt, but it was still better than a lie. He hated lying to Aaron.

“Then let me in,” he pleaded, and Robert’s chest became a blackhole for all his guilt and fear and regret to pour into, filling him to the brim. Aaron wanted to help, he wanted to make it better, and Robert didn’t even know how to tell him that such a thing was impossible. He couldn’t be fixed, because these wounds were older than Aaron, scabbed over and split open again, a relentless cycle of pain and healing which only got worse with time. No one could help with that, and there was no way to stop it, either.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, the tears drying cool against his smooth, pale skin. He felt raw, the light hanging above them glaring harshly, its brightness making his lashes flutter rapidly. The muscles in his cheeks spasmed, as if his body had more tears left to give but his mind was too exhausted to cope with more. He desperately needed some quiet, some time to just think. But Aaron was looking at him with such unease, as though he was getting ready for Robert to launch into an attack, that he felt the need to reassure him first. He could deal with everything else in a bit.

“Honestly, I’m fine now. It helped… just you being here,” he said, wearing a smile which felt chiselled onto his face.

“You have to talk to me, Robert. You can’t keep pushing me away.”

_Can’t I? Because it’s what I’ve been doing for months, and you haven’t noticed before now. There’s so much about me that you’ve never seen. So much you would never **want** to see. And if letting you in means I risk losing you, then I'll continue to push you away just to keep you close.  
_

“I’m not,” he said instead, letting his eyes drift up towards Aaron’s face, his expression softening despite the panic which spliced through his resolve. He was being undone just by a look, a touch, his courage unravelling at the seams. His hand pressed against the base of Aaron’s spine, forcing them back together, needing the distraction of heat and skin to drown out the terror creeping up his neck.

“I know how tough you find this, still. I know it’s not easy for you. And… I know you’re not… the best at dealing with how you feel. Like me.” Aaron’s bottom lip had disappeared inside his mouth, and Robert saw again the hesitant little boy, exposed and vulnerable, terrified of showing he cared in case it was thrown back in his face. The denials stuttered inside his head, no longer able to refute such an analysis with Aaron looking so defenceless in front of him.

His jaw slackened off, his mind and body sinking into defeat. He had no fight left in him, no desire to drag this out further when it would only cause them both more pain. And he didn’t have the heart, or lack of one, to continue hiding from Aaron’s unwavering gaze.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, the final acceptance that he had lost. Anything Aaron wanted, he would give him. That’s the way it had always been, and it was futile to try and change now.

“Anything. _Everything,_ ” Aaron pleaded, his hands cupping Robert’s face again so that there was no option but to look at him. He had never felt so powerless.

“I don’t even know… Aaron, I can’t just reel off my whole life story. You need to ask me specifics.” He thought it would be safer that way - 20 questions, ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, minimise the risk of babbling on about his damaged childhood, his feelings of inferiority, of bitterness, of jealousy. If he answered in as few words as possible, maybe he could cling onto some sliver of control.

Aaron’s thumb swept across across his freckled cheekbone, the rough pad tugging a little as it caught against the sensitive skin under his eye. A forgotten tear dropped from his lashes and landed on Aaron’s hand, and the two of them stared at it for a moment, reminded briefly of the torment Robert had been gripped by just moments ago.

“All right. Well… you’ve never really said… how she died.”

It was tactless and insensitive, two words Robert rarely associated with Aaron, and he felt winded by such a brutal first question. He had never, _ever_ talked about this before. Chrissie had never asked, and he had made it clear whenever she broached the subject of his childhood that his past was to stay firmly put, not to be disturbed. Everyone else knew the story already, so rehashing it had never been necessary.

“There was a fire,” he said, the words pushed out as if his body was rejecting what he was saying.

Aaron nodded, an attempt at encouragement though Robert just felt rushed, under pressure to reveal too much of himself, too soon. He needed more time, and Aaron wasn’t giving him any.

“Mum was never… she was never supposed to be in there. The barn should have been empty, but it wasn’t. And when it started, she couldn’t get out.”

Even after all these years, it was still one of the sharpest memories of her that he had. Her screams for his dad, for help, as the flames licked around the wooden structure, climbing higher and higher, the heat fierce against his face as he just stared, blankly, unable to take it in.

She had died just a few feet from where he’d been standing. And he’d done nothing. Hadn’t even lifted a finger to save her. He was a fucking coward.

“You were there?”

Aaron’s voice pulled him out of the memory and he nodded, throat too tight to speak. This was already too much for him, and they had barely gotten started.

“I can’t imagine-”

“No. You can’t,” Robert bit back, unable to help himself. He felt like a cornered animal, unable to escape the probing questions which Aaron was making him endure. Why couldn’t he see how much this was hurting him?

“You could tell me. You could explain…” Aaron trailed off, perhaps noting the hard, angular line of Robert’s jaw as he turned his face away. “Tell me, please.”

“How? How do I tell you? She was burned alive, Aaron. That’s what happened. I watched the whole barn go up in flames, watched my dad try and rescue her, and then the whole thing just exploded right in front of me. How do I even begin-” He stopped himself from going any further, his breathing suddenly laboured as he suddenly smelt the acrid stench of smoke up his nostrils, hitting him just as hard as that first time around. He’d almost gagged back then as well, his lungs filled with the smell of burning wood and hay, the night sky suddenly ablaze as the fire reached endlessly into the dark. And he’d just watched it all. Unmoving, unblinking, just gaping as his whole life turned to ashes where he stood.

Aaron dropped his hands from Robert’s face and the loss of contact turned his skin to ice, but then Aaron bent his knees and dropped a warm kiss against his temple, fingers now firm against his shoulders, keeping him in place.

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” he answered with a sigh, the image of his teenage self assaulting his mind. A mop of blonde hair and a lanky frame, too young and weak and unprepared to hear his mother’s last breath forced from her lungs in a scream. She would have been so terrified, those last few seconds of her life spent in agony and fear, desperate to escape but the fire a barrier she couldn’t break through. How hard must she have tried to stay conscious, to keep breathing while she was submerged in smoke. What had she thought, when she realised she wouldn’t be getting out alive? Had she thought of him, of Andy, of Victoria? Had she felt grief for all the years that would now be lost to her? All the moments in her children’s lives that she would now be absent for? Or had she been too frozen in panic to think about any of them, staring into the flames and knowing they would consume her soon?

Aaron must have heard Robert’s breath catch because he pulled him back against his chest, fingers knotting in his hair, murmuring words Robert’s frantic mind could no longer make sense of. He was plummeting, stomach dropping to his knees, and the only anchor left was Aaron.

“I’m here.” He said it over and over again, a lullaby to soothe Robert’s stuttering pulse, and the words kept rushing to the surface before ebbing away, faster and faster like the tide rolling in, and Robert couldn’t seem to get a hold on them.

“I should have done something,” he confessed, his voice mangled from the threat of tears. “I should have… Oh God, I should have…”

Aaron’s arms were around him, pulling him in so tightly that he was lost for a second in the feel of his crushing embrace. Robert couldn’t imagine ever feeling this protected, but it still wasn’t enough. Because no matter how strong Aaron was, Robert would always be weak.

“You were a kid. There was nothing you could have done. Rob, listen to me, there was _nothing_ you could have done.”

Except he could have called the ambulance. Or he could have ran inside with his father to try and pull her out. Or he could have been a better brother, stopped Andy from lighting that match.

“That night... before it happened... do you know what I said about her? About her and dad? I said they could kill each other for all I cared. I just wanted to get out of that house, leave them all behind. Jesus, Aaron, I practically cursed her-”

“No,” Aaron cut him off, lips pressed against his hair. “You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault, Robert, you have to believe that.”

But it was. One way or another, he was her son and he should have done more. And instead he’d just watched and waited for her to die.

Aaron’s warmth was suffocating him and he pulled free, fiercely swiping away the tears now trickling down his cheeks. He so desperately wanted to be alone, to sink into the pain, let it swallow him whole. But there was no chance of that with Aaron’s hands tight around his arms, rooting him to the spot.

“What would you have done? If you were back there now, what would you do?” He said it softly, but it still felt like an attack to Robert, as if Aaron was purposefully mocking his inability to do anything other than pick over the infinite number of ‘what ifs’ rattling around in his head.

“What does it matter? It won’t change anything.”

“But you said you should have done something,” Aaron pushed, thumb now sweeping across Robert’s slightly exposed collarbone. “What could you have done?”

Robert shook his head, but he already knew the answer. They both did. The only thing he hadn't been able to do the first time around. “Saved her.”

Aaron's head dipped, his expression tainted with pity. “How?”

“I don’t know!” Robert snapped, shrugging off Aaron’s touch and ignoring the look of betrayal he received. He was too raw, and these questions were just digging deeper into his unhealed wounds. “I should have went in there with dad. I should have tried to get her out.”

“But your dad couldn’t get to her,” Aaron said, as if he needed reminding.

“Maybe _I_ could have though. I was smaller, I might have been able to-”

“If you’d gone in there, you’d have got trapped along with her. She wouldn’t have wanted that. She’d have wanted you safe.”

He felt his lip tremble, the memories of his mother kissing the top of his head before he went off to sleep, shouting after him when he forgot his lunch, squeezing his shoulder when his dad was shouting words like _disappointment_ and _troublemaker_ , all overwhelmed him.

His heart missed a beat, then another, his pulse snagging on the cavernous sense of loss he felt like wool on barbed-wire.

“But… she was my mum,” he whispered, gaze lifting to Aaron’s wide, blue eyes. And Aaron stared back, focused and sure and devoted.

“She wouldn’t blame you, Robert. Trust me, she’d be glad knowing you didn’t go in there after her,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. Every touch was so gentle, so careful, as if Aaron was waiting for Robert to crack. He must not have realised that Aaron was the only thing right now keeping him together.

His fingers curled into Aaron’s jumper and pulled him down, capturing his bottom lip between Robert's own in a kiss that said everything he wasn’t able to in that moment. He was tired of talking, tired of picking over the carcass of his past. All he wanted was Aaron, moulded against him, reassuring him with words and touches that he wouldn’t be forever lost in this despair. That at some point, and with Aaron’s help, he’d be allowed to free himself of the burden.

“I think you should sleep. Or just lie down for a while and rest,” Aaron murmured against his mouth, hands lightly holding Robert’s neck.

He felt himself nod, but kept clinging onto Aaron’s wrist, refusing to release him. “Don’t go,” he said, though he had never meant to speak the words aloud. Aaron smiled a relieved, half-smile and Robert slid down from the arm onto the soft cushion, pulling Aaron after him.

They shifted slowly till they were stretched out along the sofa, Aaron at Robert’s back with his arm wrapped around his waist. They didn’t say anything, didn’t need to now. The worst of it was over, and even though he knew there would be more questions at some later time, he didn’t need to worry. Because Aaron was here, warm breath at his neck, solid body flush against him, and that tightness in his chest, the one that had weighed so heavily on him for so long, was finally easing.

 _Safe_. With every beat of his heart, that one word was drummed into him over and over again, till nothing else mattered.

_Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe._

It was only as his eyes dipped shut that he realised it was the first time he’d ever felt it.


End file.
